


Fulcrum

by Ea4g



Category: Cloak & Dagger (TV 2018)
Genre: Awakened Beings, F/M, Gen, Multi, Old Married Couple, Other, Poor Life Choices, Prophecy, Secret Organizations, Soulmates, Symbiotic Relationship (literally), Unwitting Pawns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-10 13:06:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15292167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ea4g/pseuds/Ea4g
Summary: You know that feeling that you're being watched? Well, Tyrone's been feeling that a lot lately. The thing is, he's right.





	1. This is my idea

**Author's Note:**

> What started out as a simple Song-fic grew into ... well, this.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a world where everything is connected, a soul-mated pair finding one another is a big deal. A Divine Pairing, with their associated destinies, is an even bigger deal. And this particular Pairing, with all their powers and symbolism...well, you get the idea. With so much potential energy up for grabs, the vultures on both sides of the moral divide are circling, waiting for their chance to use it for their own purposes.

Men in long red robes and caps meet in a huge stone chamber. There business this night is conclave, secret and hidden in the catacombs beneath the city of Rome. The faces of these men, each one lined with age, creased more with worry at being summoned as they had. The last time a conclave such as this had been held was over five hundred years ago, and that had been no affair worth repeating.

“Please Seniōrēs, take your seats.” says a man with red and white robes sittings in a throne like chair at the far end of the room. The red robed men who mill around the floor move to find seats in the rows and rows of chairs set up along the walls.

“Before we truly begin,” the man in the throne says, “I must know. Is this truly it? Can there be no doubt?”

“No Dominus.” Another man stands and speaks from the rows of chairs. “The phrasing is clear.” He pulls from his robes several sheets of paper and, looking down his long nose at them, begins to read.

“In the year when the Sun twice closes its eye, when Jupiter embraces his daughter and the moon turns to blood, then on the nineteenth day of the seventh month a miracle shall occur and an age of wonders will begin.”

He lowers the papers then and looks up at his Dominus. “This is that year, there can be no doubt.”

“I am not so sure.” Another man gets to his feet now. “How can we be certain of the veracity of all this? We have had this and its’ translations for centuries now. How can we know…”

“This is one of the Great Prophecies!” Yet another man rises, this one angrily and almost shouting at the other. “Written in the dawn of time, assured by the Powers of Creation! They were given to us so that we might be ready to ensure that…”

“Please Seniōrēs, Pace.” The man in the throne again, making soothing motions with his hands. The two combatants sit back down and the Dominus turns towards the first man again.

“If we can agree that this is indeed the time, how can we know where to look. Half this prophecy was lost, yes?”

“Unfortunately so Dominus.” The first man lowers his head in sorrow. “We lost much when Alexandria was destroyed.

“But,” he looks up again with hope in his eyes, “some of the later translations survived. They speak of a place ‘washed five times in hate and built five times in…’ here the translations become unclear. There is ‘hope’ ‘compassion’ or ‘love’, but anything beyond that is unspecific.”

“How can we find such a place with so little to go on?” another man asks, this one not rising to his feet. Not asking of the floor then.

“I know of one.” says a new voice, this ones’ owner does rise to his feet. “It is in the United States and it is called ‘New Orleans’.”

Mutters go through the room at this, the men each having hears many things about the so-called Crescent City. The Dominus looks more thoughtful than anything else as he looks at the new man.

“Edwin, you are our most senior member in that region. If you are right then this matter falls under your jurisdiction. What makes you say all this?”

The man, Edwin, takes a breath before launching into his story. “There is great power in the city. Forces that move through its air and water. And its people most of all. More important to us however, the city moves cycles. Every so often the city is struck with great conflict, and always two individuals arise. Some of the locals call them ‘The Divine Pairing’.”

More mutters pass through the room at that, but the man in the throne talks over the. “Surely though, the hurricane which last ravaged the city was the latest incarnation of this cycle?”

“No Dominus.” Edwin replies. “That is what has worried me since the storm. There was no Divine Pairing, which means the hurricane was only the warning tremors of what will be even worse calamity to follow. If the prophecy is referring to New Orleans though…” he trailed of at an upraised hand from the man in the throne.

“Does the prophecy speak of any such pairing Angelo” he asks the first man, who has remained standing all through this exchange. Withdrawing the papers again, the man, Angelo, hastily reads and rereads them.

“Perhaps.” He says finally. “Some translations talk about a bond or a union, but not much else. These later phrases of the prophecy were almost never translated at all, meaning either they were so complex that our scholars of the time were unable to decipher them or…”

“Or they were so simple,” the man in the throne pick up the line of reasoning, “that no other words would do.” He looks directly at Angelo, who nods in simple acknowledgement. They both understand the potential meaning here.

“Alright,” the man in the throne says, his voice much more official. “Unless anyone here can offer a more substantial claim, I will accept that the city of New Orleans is the place we are looking for.” Total silence greets that statement and it stretches for a few moments as the Dominus’s gaze sweeps the chamber.

"Then we shall put it to the vote. All in favor of moving forward on this matter raise your hands." Each and every hand in that room rises, the rustle of cloth somehow both gentle and almost defining in that grand space.

“Very well. Edwin,” that gaze turns back towards the man and Edwin stiffens. “You will send your watchers to the city and you will tell them fully everything you know on this matter. Choose them wisely, as they must not get involved unless ordered otherwise.”

“Yes Dominus.”

* * *

On the edge of the cliff, in the realm at the edge of the minds’ eye, The Fool has his eyes closed, his face tilted towards the skies, his staff raised high above his head and the work of five thousand years stretched out before him. Threads of light, blue, purple and indigo, twisted together in thick cords which themselves twisted into ropes all tied together into a great knot of spellwork hanging over the endless sea below.

The Fool adjusts his grip, lovingly running mental fingers over the ropes and the memories and emotions inside them. Here is a group of soldiers, each man looking nothing alike but each man fighting with his brothers. Here is a child running as fast and she can towards Unions army soldiers with a gaggle of slave children behind her, taking them to where they could be free. Here is a Pride parade and a girl who got her first real kiss. Here is a Muslim man jumping headlong into a fight protect Jews who were attacked for being Jewish. Here is a couple welcoming their new daughter to her new country. Here is a little girl who gives a homeless man her food. Here is a kid admitting to himself he was wrong. Here is a march led by Martin Luther King Jr. Here is a rich man signing his employees yearly bonus checks with a smile on his face. Here is a boy on a college campus speaking out when a debate got out of hand. Here are a thousand more moments great and small, spread though out space and time and all exemplifying the message that Mankind is more about love than hate. And here is The Fool as he catches the newest strand of memory dropped into his world from the agents on Earth. He smiles as he carefully fits this new memory, a man barely breaking even buying a stranger dinner, into place in the nearly completed knotwork.

 _Almost there,_ he thinks to himself. _Just a few more and it’ll be done._

“Dreamer!” came a voice from high above. The Fool turned away from his working and watched the vortex of cloud which heralded the new arrival. “Dreamer!” it came again as the being attached to the voiced dropped down from the seeming sky.

“Schemer!” The Fool cried happily, smiling at his old friend’s arrival. “What brings you to my humble home?”

The Schemer does not appear as happy to see The Fool as The Fool is to see him. Storm warnings fly on his cheeks and his brows knit in consternation. He strides towards The Fool until they’re shoulder to shoulder on the cliffs’ edge and he raises his hands to indicate the great knotwork.

“This is! All this! What do you think you’re doing setting up a working like this?!”

“I think I’m doing my job,” The Fool replies, his voice quickly adopting a much harder tone in response to that openly hostility. “What do you think you’re doing coming down here with accusation like you think I’m cooking up heresy down here?”

“With something on this scale, effecting all worlds, how can it be anything else?! This has to be a violation of free will, so it’s more likely to backfire and obliterate us all than actually work!”

The Fool's voice rises with mounting anger, “If you bothered to put as much effort into your sight as you do you’re accusations you’d notice that it in no way effects free will. It adds love and understanding and it’s nothing to do with control. Moreover if you bothered to even look at what the damn thing is made of what I’m actually aiming to do here would be obvious.”

The Schemers' face looks blank for a moment then he blinks his eyes rapidly for a moment, moving through the memories in his head. Then he just sighs like a parent whose kid has decided he wants to learn to fly.

“Dreamer listen,” he starts with patronizing patience, “I know you mean well, but what you’re trying to accomplish here…it’s impossible.”

“HA!” The Fool laughs. “That’s rich given what we are and what we do. There’s nothing that’s…”

“Others have tried this before.” The Schemer roles right over the end of The Fool’s statement. The Fool immediately crosses his arms and raises his eyebrows, highly effective given their general bushiness, assuming a look of intense skepticism.

The Schemer:           “Ok, maybe not quite like this, but the point still stands. You just can’t influence the way in which people think or feel on these things. As much as we despise it, racism and classism aren’t things we just can't do anything about.”

The Fool:       “Correction, they weren’t things we can do anything about. With the prophecy coming to pass and the sheer power those two will provide with the symbology of their union…”

The Schemer:           “Yes yes yes, I see the mechanics of the ritual. What I’m saying is that it still won’t work. Everyone, every power in creation has been slamming their heads against this same problem for the past two thousand years and nothing has ever come of it. The best we can do is to keep on with influencing the humans who influence the political system. If we keep going through that…”

The Fool:       “We can end up with another two thousand years of misery for some other walk of human life. With the way the political situation is headed in just one lousy country, we might very well end up with another war on our hands. And even if it doesn’t go that far the people will just find somebody new to blame all their problems on just like they did last time. And then there’s the rest of all life to consider. No, I won’t just wait around for the people to get their shit together on there own. This is the one real chance anyone has ever had to pull something like this off. One ‘I Love You’ from them will provide all the power I need to fuel my spell and when they come together…”

The Schemer:           “ _If_ they come together.”

The Fool:       “ ** _When!_** You forget, my Lady Love is handling the wet work on this one herself and she’s even more powerful than I am. And once she does her bit and they ignites the spell that will be the end of it. Bigotry will be erased from all existence. Forever. ”

The Schemer:           “This is ridiculous. I can’t and won’t let you do this and put everything we’ve ever worked towards at risk. Who do you think you are anyway, saying you will be the ones to fix all this?!”

The Fool:       “The one with a writ of authority to try!”

The Fool pulls a gold embossed document from his pocket, ignoring that there was no way for such a thing to fit in a pocket without being folded, and hands it to The Schemer who snatches it from the air. “Signed and witnessed by the Council of Powers and The Most High. You ask what gives me the right, well the prophecy falls under my jurisdiction as Patron of Love and that writ gives me the right to try and correct one of the greatest mistake in all history.”

Taking the writ back from The Schemer’s slack hand, The Fool puts it back in his pocket and turns back to his knotwork, plucking a new memory from the air, a group of children telling ghost stories around a camp fire, and adding it to the incomplete spell.

“Unless you want to help, I ask that you leave.” He says, looking back over his shoulder and with that, he said no more. The Schemer takes his leave, leaping up through the cloud vortex and back to his own home. The Fool sighs and turns his own face to the cloudless portions of the sky above. “Oh My Love, I hope he stays out of it.”

* * *

In the realm of She'ol, pushed deep in its hole, bound in silver chains, The Spider peers out from around the edge of the giant loadstone that has waid it down for well centuries. It has long since run out of breath for cursing and screaming, but still it silently curses everyone and everything that brought it to this pitiful state, trapped, powerless and starving.

In the days gone by The Spider was feared and hated, the emotions like sweet nectar, wonderful flavor to wash down its’ meals of sentient flesh. It went where it liked and took what it wanted and only the armor of The Maha-Turin could possibly withstand its’ bite. And humans, oh how it had feasted on their fear and blood. It had all been perfect. And now here it lies, bound and caged, all because of some pitiful humans, children of all things. Of course they couldn’t have killed it, no one can, but what does that matter now. Trapped in a hole at the bottom of the Well of Sorrow with one limb crippled is hardly any more effective a position that being dead.

Still it watches the world above, for any chance any possibility that it might be free again. It wants the one who created the curse, the one who gave those brats the power to kill one of its limb and chain it in this cold and empty place. The sorrow it feeds on here is only that of regret, enough to sustain it but nothing more and it tastes so bland and lifeless, which makes sense considering the sources are all dead themselves.

But good things come to those who wait. A chance indeed presents itself to this loathsome creature, a plan that could, perchance, free it from centuries of imprisonment.

It was really just dumb luck. The alignment of She'ol and one of the human worlds just happened to coincide with one of its’ more populous archipelago nations being whipped from existence. That much misery and suffering all pouring into She'ol all at once, it had been enough to weaken the chains. Only for a moment, and not enough to break even one of its’ bonds, but it had been enough to notice. And so The Spider hatched a plan. If the destruction of an island kingdom had do that, a world that could be brought to such continuous and sustained suffering might just be enough to break it free.

Of course, such things were hard to managed from the bottom of the Well of Sorrow. For years it tried to entice beings which passed by to try their strength against the humans, but they never payed it any mind. So The Spider was forced to look for other means. If it can’t get an existing creature to do the job, it will just create one.

The Spider cannot move much in it’s bonds not can it reach even its’ weakest limb out from beneath the loadstone to gather any material. But the one thing it can still touch is itself. Slowly, carefully The Spider works itself around within its’ chains, careful not to tangle itself any further, until it gets its’ head around towards its’ crippled limb.

It contemplates the injury for a moment, cursing afresh at the devastation, could still feeling the piece of pure mana and silver being stabbed into it, the agony as its’ limb began to burn and horror as the chains began to sprout and tangle about it, the realization and fear as it was dragged bodily from the world and down, down into its’ prison and all it could do was curse as the bindings set and the loadstone appeared. Now all its’ suffering will be put to good use and, getting its’ jaws set about the tortured limb, it bit down as hard as it could.

The bite tares through flesh and bone like it was nothing, the pain is also like nothing The Spider had felt since it was imprisoned, but it can ignore the pain as it turns its’ head quickly, jaws still holding the now severed limb and throws it as far as it can out from underneath the loadstone. The withered limb was the only one small enough to fit and though while still attached it was too weak to do anything at all, it might yet become something more.

All that is needed now is a name. Names are important things, they denote being as apposed to existing. Living things needed names, even if they are a potential weakness in the right hands. To forget a name is to truly die and to truly live one must have a name. So if the lump of flesh and darkness was to live it must have a name.

“D'Spayre” it whispers, using what little breath it had been saving for this moment. A simple name but a serviceable one. It would do.

Nothing happens. Long seconds tick by and the lump just sits there wreathed in shadows. Then, it moves. Just a twitch at first, then it rocks from side the side, harder and faster. Then something moves inside as if it were a cocoon, and a bone white, clawed finger thrusts out through the skin. It cuts through as easy as unzipping a jacket and a skeletal creature pulls itself out. Immediately The Spider closed all but one of its eyes, playing dead as convincingly as possible.

Roughly shaped like a human being, and obviously male, his face seems plated in flexible bone, giving the appearance of a mask. His hands and forearms too are gauntleted in bone with talons on the fingers. A similar bone armor encase his calves and feet, ending in short, hook-claws at the ends of his toes. The rest of him looks completely skeletal, aside from the genital region, ash grey skin stretched over undersized ribs and coated around the rest of his torso.

The strangest thing about this D'Spayre though is the black billows of shadow that seem to be emanating from him and he pants and holds himself up on hands and knees, taking his first breath. One breath in and then out and the darkness made physical stops its random motions around D'Spayre. Another breath in and another out and the dark seems to pool around him and turn solid. It fills in the spaces where muscle and sinew would go, even covering his skill around his face plates, enhancing the mask-like visage. When it’s over, a naked man with ink black skin sits back on his knees, his face bone white with no hair or lips to be seen and what appears to be some of the strangest weapon and armor combos ever imagined for arms and legs.

D'Spayre takes a look down at himself for the first time, down at his hands and his torso. He lifts one of his hands and twists it and the fingers, demonstrating that they move at his will. He examines the other hand but stops when he notices the substance clinging to his fingers, picked up while he was bent over on the ground. He brings it to his face and sniffs, then extends a long black tongue from between flat, bone lips and tastes. What it is is liquid sorrow, fairly standard for the literal Well of Sorrow. But to D'Spayre it might as well have been mother’s milk. Within seconds every drop was licked off his hand and he looked down at the ground for more. He reached out and with both long-fingered hands lifted a small pool of the stuff to his mouth, drinking it all down in one long sip.

Looking up from his drink, D'Spayre raises his head to examine the walls of this place. Now fully getting to his feet, he walks slowly but with growing ability to where more liquid sorrow drips slowly from the souls trapped in She'ols’ walls. D'Spayre reached out a clawed finger to touch a soul, piercing it with one claw. The pain this caused the soul quickly coated D'Spayre’s finger and it was swiftly withdrawn and cautiously sampled by the newborn demon. Its eyes, pools of liquid darkness with nary a trace of light in them, bend and widen. He had thought sorrow was good, but pain, pain was delicious.

The Spider smiled to itself, watching its offspring claw at the walls, taking more and more pleasure in the pain he could wring from his food sources. Soon he would grow strong, strong enough to leave this place, strong enough seek out the mortal world. And then, then sorrow will rain down on everything and all its’ chains will be broken at last.

 _Free_ , The Spider though to itself. _Oh what will I do first once I am free?!_

* * *

Tyrone can’t stop himself. He checks over his shoulder for what feels like the twentieth time today, looking out the cracked stained-glass window. All day, since he woke up, he’s just not been able to shake the paranoid itch between his shoulder blades.

“What’s your problem?” Says Tandy, looking up from the files she’s been reading. It isn’t really a question, she’s just being her usual contrary self. And this is the fifth time today she’s caught him doing that today.

“Nothin,” he replies a little too quickly. “Just, ever had that feeling you’re being watched.”

Tandy just looks at him like he’s lost his mind, pretty much her default expression where Tyrone is concerned. “Yeah, because you are being watch. I’m watching you, right now, because you’ve been twitching since you got here.”

“Nah, this has been all day. And you don’t make me twitch.”

“Yeah. That explains why you didn’t notice me yesterday.”

“Well whatever’s going on I swear there’s…wait, what do you mean ‘yesterday’? When were you watching me yesterday?”

“All day.” Tandy says smiling. “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to wear a shirt to bed. Good as you look, that’s way too much skin to be showing off till you fill out a little more.”

“Well it wouldn’t be a problem if you just didn’t go creeping on people through their widows. Why exactly did you decide to spy on me anyway?”

“Eh, just wanted to see what upper crust teens do to kill a day when they aren’t sneaking around with streatrats.”

Tyrone just sighs and lowers his face into his right palm. “I feel like I should be mad, but at this point I guess I should just be grateful you didn’t go digging through my stuff.”

“Right…Quick question though. Why do you have a ballet slipper in your closet? ’Cause it looks very familiar for some reason.”

“You mean familiar like that old hoodie over there, because I swear I used to have one just like it.”

“Okay, you…”

The two continue their light bickering, the moment and Tyrone’s uneasy instincts forgotten for now. As a happens though, Tyrone is being watched. Watch by about a half dozen people expert in their ability to watch without being watched. There’s The Fool, The Schemer, The Spider, the human spying through the aforementioned cracked window for his masters in Rome, the various interested third parties Above and Below, Lenny the Alter Rat and, invisible in the far corner, The Lady. She whose mission it is to bring these two together.

And right about now all of them have the same basic thought running through their heads, watching the increasingly spirited back and forth of these two powers. “OH boy. This could take a while.”


	2. A Different Angle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Scary, isn’t it? But what wonderful thing didn’t start out scary?” – Isaac Marion

Lenny sits in hiding spot under the Broken Stone Mountain, looking out on The Place. It was his Place, had been since before Bright Girl came to live with him. At 15, he is the oldest rat in The Place (in the entire city too, though he couldn't know it). He had attained such age by being smart enough to hide when the Stomping folk were about, and by knowing friends from enemies. When The Lady had come and asked for someone to help her all those years ago he hadn't coward like some degu caught out of its hole, he'd known a free meal when it passed under his whiskers. He'd agreed to help, to be her spy in The Place. When Bright Girl had first followed him inside from the Great Green Food Trough he'd reported to Her and when she'd come to live there Lenny reported that too. Ever since Walking Shadow had followed Bright Girl home one day The Lady had been wanting more and better reports from him, pulling directly from his memory when he let her.

So Lenny sits low and still and he watches. The female Stomper was talking again. He twitches his ears out to focus on the sounds she was making. Before he'd met The Lady all their noise didn't seem like it mattered all that much, but now he'd found that, if he listened close, they actually made sense to him. That had saved Lenny's life more than once over the years, allowing him to escape from the Great Blue Monster which came to eat from the Great Green Food Trough or when Rat Eaters were out and about.

"Uh...Uh, I'm sorry, can you repeat that last part?" That's Bright Girl talking now, sounding confused and more than a little scared.

"Every time the city's been struck with a catastrophe, it's always come down to two people. My auntie calls them the Divine Pairing."

Lenny nearly twitched at that. "Divine Pairing". That's something The Lady talked about a lot. She'd been very clear about what he was supposed to do if he ever heard those words spoken out loud by anyone. Pay very close attention to what's happening and then tell her the second things stopped being interesting. He didn't know why this was so important, but Lenny was an old rat and no old rat anywhere is stupid. There were things that happened so far over his head and it was best to let folks like The Lady handle them so he could have his food and long life as peaceful as could be.

"It's always two," the Stomper female started again "since the stories began."

"Wait, those dolls on her mantle, that's what they were?" Walking Shadow's voice nearly made Lenny jump. That one always scared him. If you didn’t keep your eyes on him you'd forget he was in the room. He got to be such a part of the darkness in The Place.

"Yeah. And here are the latest two editions to her display." The Stomper girl handed two things, figures of Bight Girl and Walking Shadow that were about Lenny's size, to each of her friends.

"Okay, Y'No, this is ridiculous."

"Maybe not. Maybe that's why we've been going through all this."

"Did you not hear the part where we die?"

"Not both of you. Just one."

"Still!"

"I know, okay? Listen, it's on me to let you know what you're going up against. The same way it's on you to go up against it. Now, I'm sorry, I wish I could do more to help you, I really do."

"Yeah, I know. I was in your head."

All this talk was well past confusing to Lenny. How could anything be inside a head. Unless you were eating it, and the Stomper girl looked suspiciously un-eaten. Still, that was the norm for these people. Weirdos, all of them. It's enough to make a poor rat's head spin and almost wish he'd not gotten involved. Almost.

Walking Shadow was moving forward now, using his legs for some reason. Lenny didn't understand why he didn't move through the shadows, it would be faster and easier than walking. Now he was reaching out and touching the Stomper girl, holding her arm gently.

"Look, you should be somewhere safe, okay?"

"I needed to tell you. Everything."

"E-Evita, you got to get out of here. You know this whole city is tearing itself apart"

"I also know it's in good hands."

"Look, you've become...You are important. And I don't want to see you hurt. Okay?"

The two of them press their faces together, something Lenny originally thought was some form of attack. Rats do not mate for life, so he'd assumed they were biting each other. The Lady had tried to explain it, but it only confused more than it helped.

The Stomper girl pulls away from Walking Shadow. Lenny couldn't see what she was looking at from this angle, but she looked worried ... and sad.

"What?" Walking Shadow, having noticed the same look on her face.

"Nothing." A lie. Lenny had gotten very good at hearing those. The Lady always wanted to know about them. She said they showed more than people wanted them too.

"I'll see you soon, Tyrone Johnson." And the Stomper girl went away. She forgot to take the red thing she'd brought with her.

Now it was just Bright Girl and Walking Shadow again. There was something different about Bright Girl now though. She stood straighter, moved freer, she didn't smell as afraid. She was also carrying a large piece of his thin snack. It was one of the things she wouldn't let him eat, but that made it even more fun when he got to anyway.

“You know, on second throw, I don't hate you two together."

He smiled, small but it's there. "Tandy..." What was the word, embarrassed. Lenny wasn't used to seeing that. It was funny. Bright Girl never acted that way, not even when she wasn't wearing her flat fur. The Lady had explained that most Stompers in this part of the world thought being seen without it or looking at someone without it was taboo, and that's why Walking Shadow had run away the time he'd come in while Bright Girl wasn't wearing hers.

"If the city doesn't destroy itself, you should lock that down."

“So, what are we gonna do now?"

“Um…" Bright Girl held the thin snack so both she and Walking Shadow could look at it. "we'll beeline past the CBD and see if the parade's past and no Terrorizing has gone down."

“Oh, I mean, there's got to be hundreds of Terrors by now, right?"

"Okay, then we deal. And we go straight to the Core, and we stop it at the source, just like we did at the rig."

“Ivan stopped the rig. We're not even sure stopping it will make the Terrors go away. And I I don't know how good I'm gonna be now that my cloak is ripped to shreds, it's useless."

Walking Shadow picks up the rags he'd brought with him and moved to sit down on the climbing blocks. His voice was agitated and he smelled more afraid than ever.

“Look, I... I'm useless! Maybe the city picked the wrong saviors this time."

“No."

Again, Lenny almost moved. Bright Girl never had that sound in her voice. She hadn't ever talked about NOT being afraid.

“No, what?"

“No...to this whole thing. This old you that I met, hiding from his own shadow? Second-guessing every move instead of actually moving, if this is the guy that's gonna show up, Tyrone, we're both gonna die."

“Maybe that's who I am."

“Again, no." It was exiting to see her like this, fierce instead of hiding in a corner like usual. It offended Lenny's sensibilities. Street Rats weren't for cowering and being afraid. And whatever she looked like, Bright Girl was a fellow Street Rat.

“You are Tyrone freaking Johnson." She was on a roll now. She walks past him, still talking over her shoulder, but towards her sleeping nest and the Rag she'd wrap around herself every night. “Baller lady-killer, master of space, if not time, and you don't need a cloak for all of that."

“Look, what if I do?

"Well, then you can use this."

She was holding the rag up now and out to Walking Shadow. There was another surprise. She loves that thing. She doesn't feel safe enough to sleep without it. It must have meant something to Walking Shadow too, since the second he sees it he gets up and reaches out to touch.

“Is that?"

"It is."

“How did you...?"

"I stole it. From little you. It was the first thing I ever stole."

“Why didn't you say anything about his before?"

"Because I needed it. I really needed it." She looks directly in his eyes and he looks right back. That's the only part that looks the same. Their eyes, they're the same color.

“And now?"

"And now you need it. Even though you don't need it. But I need you.”

Another moment and something silent seems to pass between them. An understanding and some kind of closeness.

“Okay." Walking Shadow begins wrapping the rags around himself like Bight Girl did, his fear scent fading as he did. "Okay."

"You ready to do this?”

“Yeah.”

And they both leave The Place, and Lenny knew it's time to make his move. Quickly he turns and darts down the crack in the wall, down the tunnels and past rusty pipes, down to his nest made of the finest bits a pieces a rat could scrounge over 15 years. The stuff Bright Girl called "insulation" was the best, but plenty of other stuff had gone into making it too. There were a few pieces of food inside and a big silver circle about half as big as him. A gift from The Lady the day he'd agreed to work with her.

Lenny touches his left paw to the cool face of it and the circle began to glow.

"My Lady." He called. "My Lady, it is time."

* * *

Tandy's hand rubbed at the burn on her arm subconsciously. Well, there was nothing subconscious about how much it hurt, but it wasn't like she was really directing her hand to keep doing it. Hell, what was she even doing here? Why wasn't she on the other side of town, as far away as she could get? Just three months ago she wouldn't have thought twice about it.

And now there are words coming out of her mouth, and she can't believe what they are because there's no way Tandy Goddam Bowen was saying anything like this.

“For some reason, life tossed us together and mixed up our mojo, so if it's on you, it's on me, too! I know that! Shit, Ty, sometimes it's the only thing that I know!”

It was impossible. Tandy Bowen was a selfish bitch who didn't and couldn't care about anyone but herself, but the really scary part was that for the first time since she could remember she wasn't lying. What she'd just said, which had to be the stupidest and most ridiculously childish thing she'd ever heard, it was true.

Tandy Bowen didn't want to live in a world without Tyrone Johnson in it.

 _Maybe I really_ _could_ _get a handle on this "caring" thing Ty's always going on about._

The shock of it was enough that Tandy didn't realize her mouth was still running, but she hears her last sentence loud and clear.

“And this swirling ball of scary down here is probably nothing compared to that feeling when you and I touched.”

And then it hits her. An idea. It's a total Hail Mary, and would probably only make things worse in true T&T style, but the alternative is dying and however suicidal this new Tandy is she still liked the idea of dying about as much as the old Tandy did.

“Actually it's exactly that.” Tyrone apparently had the same idea, 'cause his eyes were down from her face and at her hands ('cause there was no way St. Tyrone's eyes would be going anywhere fun).

“Hold my hand.” Tandy reaches out with her own “We'll show these assholes a divine pairing.”

And Tyrone grabbed her hand and held on for dear life as the world seamed to rip itself to pieces around them. Everything shook, clouds of light and dark swirl around them, up the walls and from their joined hands.

And on the green rail, invisible to anyone, The Lady herself stands impervious to the upheaval of everything around her. She's careful to keep herself as not there as possible. This is the essence of the worlds she's dealing with, it operates on a spiritual level and if she isn't careful it could actually require power to deal with. She's not here to get involved herself, just to keep these two in the fight.

"Love of my life," She calls "lend me your music."

And music there was.

[“Come sail away,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q3ihNMf1paQ)

[Come sail away,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q3ihNMf1paQ)

[Come sail away with me."](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q3ihNMf1paQ)

Odd choice in lyrics, but the melody was strong and uplifting and it rises at her call to swirl around the room in true musical fashion. The Lady isn't the anything of music, but her man is and he could do just about anything he liked with the stuff. She was just there to conduct and she conducted every note she could into Tandy and Tyrone and their joined hands.

Tandy couldn't believe the feeling. She'd one time grabbed hold of an electric fence when she was a kid, but this was like that on steroids mixed with all the release she got when she'd first called out one of her knives. It was hot and intense and painfully good and made her want to scream and pull her hand away all at the same time. But Tyrone's grip was like a vice and she was holding on to him just as tight just to keep the two of them connected because there was no way the power wasn't going to tear them apart. Then there was a blade in her free hand and it was lifted high over her head and the bright part of their shared crazy was warping itself around and through it.

But the crazy plan seemed to be working. The equipment looked gone to complete shit, but the walls of the Core weren't even cracking and the scaffold under their feet was still there. Then suddenly it wasn't and she and Tyrone were on top of a roof somewhere looking at a predawn sky. She had no idea where they were, but it didn't matter because it felt like all of that energy that they'd been playing lighting rod to was inside her and if she didn't let it out right now she'd explode. Tandy screamed as a pillar of white blasted through her and her knife and up into the sky. Next to her Tyrone had his arms spread open and he was screaming too as his whole body was made the source of a a pillar of black that was pouring into the sky right next to her.

It went on and on for what felt like forever but then it was all gone and with a bang and a feeling like a balloon popping all around them she and Tyrone fell flat on their backs. Tandy felt completely drained and exhausted and Tyrone's panting breaths in her ear told her he felt the same, but as their heart rates went down she became conscious of herself once again.

She was alive. He was alive. The city wasn't a smoking crater in the ground. Crazy people weren't trying to tear her limb from limb. Her arm still hurt but who cares about that, she was FREAKING ALIVE and the stupid prophecy was wrong and she was holding Tyrone's hand and...

Why was she still holding Tyrone's hand?

She looks over at Tyrone lying next to her and she found him looking right back at her and even with all the questions and things they should probably be talking about Tandy can't bring herself to do much more than smile. He smiles back and they turn their heads to just look up at the clouds and she just lets the serious thoughts go and gives free reign to the very silly things her clearly addled head wants to focus on.

_How is this the first time I've ever just held a boy's hand? Why is it so nice?  
_

 "This Curse Is Broken" The Lady spread her arms and lifted her face, soaking in the pure spiritual radiance of this moment and this day.

* * *

The waters of the river ripple not at all as two heads break the surface, The Fool walking hand in hand with a little girl with long black hair and a buck-skin dress. A large basket of rocks he holds in his other hand which he's promptly tosses downstream without a backward glance as he pulls the girl up to stand with him on the surface of the water. On the far bank The Lady stands waiting, her own hand holding tight that of a tall man looking in his prime with braided black hair and breaches made of the same skin as the girls dress.

The Fool walks forward with the girl closely in toe and a huge smile breaks across her face as her eyes meat the man's. He stares and then looks away and then brings a hand to his mouth and then looks back, tears fill his eyes as he just looks at her. As The Fool and the girl reached the shallowest edge of the water man breaks from The Lady's grip and rushes forward to meet her where she is.

"Chishba!" He wraps his arms around her and lifts her up and as they leave the river and are both on the grass, she shines and changes. When the light clears what's left is a full grown woman as old as he is and she wraps him up in her arms as well as he all but sobs into her hair.

"I'm sorry." he whispers to her. "I am so, so sorry."

"It's alright Nalusa. It's okay." Chishba whispers into his ear.

"It should have been me. I didn't...I should never have..."

"We were twelve. And there was no way you could have known. None of us did." Chishba puts a forced note of humor in her voice. "This was not your fault."

Nalusa takes a shuddering breath and the first Divine Pair of New Orleans just stood and held each other for a long moment.

"I love you"

Chishba pulls away at that, still in his arms but enough to look up at his face. Another hot minute passes, her just looking at him and him looking back. Then she kisses him and giggles a little when she pulls away.

"Now?" she says harshly, but the smile takes any bite out of her words. "You tell me this now? You couldn't have said something maybe 300 years ago?"

"I didn't know 300 years ago." Nalusa responds, defensive but still a little dazed looking.

"Well I did." Almost sullen but still more happy amused, resting her chin on his shoulder.

A few meters away The Fool and The Lady stand linked arm and arm. They lean against one another, happy in the happiness they brought to others.

Then with a gesture from The Lady, the couple turns and sees, standing above the water, three other pairs, the ghosts of the divine pairings come before them. Lovers and siblings alike embracing one another, sharing affection and quite words of apology for leaving or for causing hurt. Chishba and Nalusa rise up to join them and each couple stands in line in the order they'd come, each pair bound to this place but separated as long as the land required their sacrifice. But that wasn't needed anymore.

The pairs each bows at the waist to The Lady and her Fool and the two bow back in respect, wishing them peace for all their troubles. A wind picks up and the ghosts were gone. And then it's just the two standing alone by the river bank.

"And that, ladies, gents and others, is the end of that." says The Fool.

"One down." The Lady this time, "and a whole lot more to go."

It's a quiet celebration, but bringing peace and justice to 8 souls and breaking a 300 year long curse is something worth celebrating, even if it is only the first step.

"How are they?" The Fool doesn't turn or anything, but he's talking to her and she knows him.

"Better." She responds same at him still looking at where the ghosts disappeared. "They've got a long way to go though, even with their own person demons dealt with."

"I gotta say, it was a great idea taking care of those right out of the gate. Saves on time gets them on the same page all in one move."

"A move that took three months to pull off." The Lady pointedly reminded her man.

The Fool shrugged. "Better time than I ever managed. You remember Kate and Richard. Took me four years to get anywhere with those two, and that was back in my feather days."

"It was also before you met me...y'know again."

"Fair enough."

The two stand there a while, turned towards each other now, just enjoying the brief rest and the company of their other.

"How's the knotwork?" The Lady asks after a moment.

"It's ready." The Fool said proudly, though sad she hadn't been there to see such a project so long in their home finished. "All it needs is them."

"They're still not ready," The Lady put in. "I only just got them holding hands, and you can bet it'll be like pulling dragons' teeth to get a decent hug. And anyways, there's still a lot they'll be able to do in the mean time. I know how you love the random things." She ends with her most charming wide smile, which gets a happy expression from her love.

"We're in no rush." The Fool turns to observe the rivers passing. "How long do you think you'll need."

"I don't know. They don't seem completely clueless. I doubt it'll be another Archie situation, but it could still take a while." The Lady taps her chin thoughtfully. "Best guess, I'd say four years your time. Give or take a few months maybe."

The Fool doesn't even blink at the notion that he'd be spending the next half a decade waiting.

"I've waited five thousand years for this, I can take a little more waiting. Though if it's anything like what we went through..."

"Oh, I hardly think we'll be waiting around for another two thousand years. Beside, I'd never stand for not seeing you for that long and neither would Tandy. She's much more ferocious than we were at her age."

"Oh wow" The Fool begins to laugh, chuckling through his words. "Oh, that brings back memories."

The two stand there in the grass by the river, talking of old times and sharing in one anothers' happiness until near sundown and fireflies fill the night air.

"This all will have attracted attention from beyond. You know that right?"

"I know. I can take care of myself."

"I know. But be careful anyway."

One firefly in particular flies close to The Lady's nose.

"I'd say it's about time. Ty and Tandy will have finished moving by now and Lenny should have something new for me. Then there's what's next to start attending to."

"Of course," The Fool says with a nod of his head as he, very reluctantly, disentangles himself from his Lady's arms. His cane suddenly in hand again, he raises it partially off the ground before stopping as he's turned towards the river.

"I could be wrong," he says, "but I think 'what's next' may be right over there." He's pointing with his free hand at something floating in the water that's neither driftwood nor alligator. It is, in fact, the mostly lifeless body of Brigit O'Reilly. Mostly, but not entirely. She's turned over on her side and her legs are trailing behind her. She looks absolutely, heartbreakingly horrible all shot to pieces like she is, a warrior to the end. Or the beginning depending on your perspective. Or ability in the case of a certain Lady and Fool.

"Would you mind if I...?" The Lady trails off, indicating Brigit with her hand.

"Please." The Fool waved her on, now standing by a dead tree through which he meant to take his leave. "This is your show. I am simply your back-up."

Smiling her thanks, The Lady moves to stand by the river's edge. She makes a slow twist of her hand and snaps her fingers, sending sparks dancing through the air. While such as they are forbidden from direct interference, sometimes a small nudge can have a large impact.

A firefly lands on a flower not two feet away, to feed on the abundance of pollen and nectar. Unfortunately for the firefly, the meal is cut short as a hand strikes the flower and pull it's owner out of the water. Her eyes glow with the light of a firefly and she moves across the clearing, towards New Orleans, in jolts of inhuman speed.

She is Mayhem, harbinger of the coming storm.

* * *

D'Spayre laughed. Threw back his head and laughed long and loud at all this delicious chaos. He sits in his throne, watching the world spread out before him, watching as all those people infected with his power tried to tear their brethren apart with their bare hands.

D'Spayre'd thought he'd had it when he'd failed tunneling clear to the realm of the mortals, but these results were almost worth the three hundred year delay. The humans were just so...entertaining. Just a few drops of his power leaking through the crack he'd made in the barrier mixed with that white stuff and they took it from there. They almost didn't need him, they were the cause of their own misery and suffering.

How else could anyone explain the wondrous inventions that were slavery and war. All those beaten, downtrodden souls pouring out they misery and all for him. Or better, the angry ones who'd pay absolutely _anything_ for freedom or, better still, revenge. He had quite a few souls around just from the last war he'd bothered to get involved in. The Vietnam War his souls called it, at least when they weren't screaming.

His favorite had to be the one he made constantly singing. That Fool who kept trying to stop him hated it when music was "misused" and it always brought D'Spayre a special kind of pleasure to make that old man hurt. Plus, to an immortal, variety truly is the spice of life and screams and pleading get old after the first thousand years or so.

"[Rock-a-Bye Baby,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3XGUXciCmcA)

[In the tree top.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3XGUXciCmcA)

[When the wind blows,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3XGUXciCmcA)

[The cradle will rock.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3XGUXciCmcA)"

Still, as fun as watching human mayhem is, he knows better than this. He still wasn't there yet, and he had to be there. All the delicious food was there, humans just for him. He'd never be hungry again, he might even find out if he could feel full.

And there was one thing about humans he absolutely hated.

Heroes.

Every time things were getting good for him something along the same lines always happened. Someone, some human with a blessing from The Schemer or some such person, would show up and ruin everything. Abraham Lincoln had destroyed legal slavery, forcing his slavers to run and hide like cockroaches. Those Order of the White Rose people had ruined his concentration camps during World War 2, killing all those beautifully corrupted souls before they could reach their full potential.

Now it seemed heroes were cropping up everywhere, with powers of entire armies of humans concentrated into a few individuals. Of course, there were some with powers who enjoyed causing suffering too, but somehow even with their greater numbers they always seemed to go down hard.

And now there was this boy.

Initially D'Spayre had thought the Divine Pairings were entertaining. Sure, the peace they brought was inconvenient, but they never really put his works in any danger and the aftermath of the blood sacrifices were quite entertaining. But this time had been different. He'd been personally involved and that had led to new opportunities.

He thought it would be perfect. A divine pairing using some of his own powers, there was no way they could possibly be used for anything but pain. Fear always caused pain. But this boy was such a disappointment. He'd accidentally created a hero, a hero who'd stopped the spread of his wonderful suffering.

It was that girls' influence, it has to be. Hope was always so infectious, almost as much as that flea-bite disease he'd created centuries ago. He'd once thought he'd get her soul into the bargain, but then hope ruined her and she ruined him and now he, D'Spayre, had no foothold in the world above.

D'Spayre glares daggers at the projection of the Earth he'd called up. When it was his he'd make sure heroes were the first things to go.

But for now...Good Master Jip would see to the boy and in mean time there was at least one good thing to be had from all this.

D'Spayre hears the faint sound from above he'd been expecting and he holds up his hand just so and a few seconds later a body is caught on his claws. It's a human, a male with ginger hair and a scar on one side of his face.

D'Spayre turns in his throne and smiles his predator's smile, the empty eye sockets and lipless mouth somehow expressing anticipation before taking the first bite of a delicious meal.

"Mr Connors. So nice to have you."

The screaming began in earnest as D'Spayre sinks his teeth into Connors, screams that wouldn't end for a long, long time.

"[When the bow breaks,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3XGUXciCmcA)

[The baby will fall.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3XGUXciCmcA)

[And down will come baby,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3XGUXciCmcA)

[Cradle and all.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3XGUXciCmcA)"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this would be a one shot. I was wrong. Please review or say near about anything you'd like. I'm all ears.

**Author's Note:**

> Initial inspiration comes from Black & White by Todrick Hall. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XtzF0b7gjZQ
> 
> Characters are either my own creations or are the soul property of Marvel Comics. I, of course, own nothing.


End file.
